When Angels Are Near
by liketolaugh
Summary: In a world where the love of others makes your wings grow, Leverrier tells Link that CROWs do not need feathers. Link tries to believe him, until he meets Allen, and his wings start to grow. And Link realizes that he has never wanted anything more.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I should not be doing this, this is, like, literally the last thing I should be doing. I do not have time for this. ...I'm doing it anyway.**

 **Title: When Angels Are Near**

 **Author: liketolaugh**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairings: Link/Allen**

 **Genre: Romance/Friendship**

 **Warnings: AU**

 **Summary:** **In a world where the love of others makes your wings grow, Leverrier tells Link that CROWs do not need feathers. Link tries to believe him, until he meets Allen, and his wings start to grow. And Link realizes that he has never wanted anything more.**

 **Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.**

* * *

Everyone, Red knew, had wings.

Wings occurred naturally in humans; they grew feathers according to how many people loved them, and how much. Some people had huge, intimidating wings and kind smiles. Some had tiny, shrivelled wings and hunched shoulders. A few had wings that once were large but were now almost bare; those people wore looks that were haunted and miserable. Most people had a wingspan somewhere between eight and twelve feet, thick with feathers.

The first thing a person looked at when meeting someone new was their wings. They were usually a good judge of character; someone with large wings was lovable and trustworthy. Someone with unusually small wings was instantly suspect. People with thick, waterproof wings were hardy, and those with thin, stringy ones were fragile.

In a world where your worth is measured by your wings, Red has none.

* * *

Link's wings have always been more or less the same size - a little smaller than average at about six feet wide, but dense and warm. Their size fluctuated slightly, over days and months, as things went wrong and things went right. Feathers fell out and grew back and filled in thicker than before. They weren't much, but Link was proud of them. And he was proud of his friends.

Of course, wings only did so much to help on a cold winter night, and nothing at all when you were hungry. They didn't help when Kiredori and Tewaku couldn't sleep because they were so hungry, or when Link couldn't, either, but wouldn't admit it.

This man - Leverrier - his wings were small. Tiny. Six to eight inches across, if Link was any judge; it was almost comical. They were also bare, with not a feather in sight.

Still, they couldn't afford to turn down his help.

* * *

A few weeks after Allen - for he is Allen now, not Red, according to the weird clown - is picked up from the circus, he wakes up and feels something pressing into his back.

Allen stretched, and the things at his back flexed. He frowned, sat up, twisted to look- and stared.

He had wings. Tiny, one-foot wings, pathetic and bedraggled, but he had wings.

 _...What?_

His mouth opened, and then closed, and he reached back, twisting awkwardly, and touched them, fingers brushing through the mottled down.

A yawn, and the accompanying sound of Mana stirring from his slumber, wasn't enough to make Allen tear his eyes away from his new appendages. Neither was the soft 'oh' the man let out, or the patter of footsteps when he crossed the room.

When the man finally sat down beside him, Allen whispered, voice rough with disbelief, "What?"

"They're wings, Allen," Mana explained, voice cheerful but still soft. "They show that someone loves you."

"No one loves me," Allen replied automatically, not taking his eyes off the fluffy evidence.

Mana laughed, and his hand landed on Allen's head, ruffling his hair fondly. Allen was momentarily distracted, growling and batting his hand away indignantly. When he was done laughing, Mana smiled at him and said,

" _I_ love you, silly boy."

Allen froze, staring at him with wide silver eyes; Mana's smile never wavered, but his eyes softened. Allen looked from Mana, to the wings on his back, and then to Mana again, slowly, painstakingly, drawing the connection between the two.

Mana's wings had once been large. Allen didn't know how large; he didn't know how big most wings really were under the feathers. Now they were naked, save for a short, soft coat of tiny contour feathers, coating the bases of both wings.

As the realization of what his new wings meant, what he meant to Mana, washed over him, new feathers, brilliant brown and fluffy, crept up from the smooth contour feathers, until Mana's entire six-foot wingspan was covered in down that looked more like fur than feathers.

* * *

Link hated taking showers.

Oh, that didn't stop him from taking them; he still showered every morning and every night, keeping himself neat and clean at all times. But he hated them nonetheless.

He didn't know how this had happened, how they had let this happen, how they'd let themselves grow so desperate - but still, he supposed this was for the best, that they served a greater cause now.

Link had been seeing his friends less and less lately. All of them were busy now - with training, with different missions, different tasks, different _paths._ That would be okay, he supposed, if lonely, except-

Every time he took a shower, more feathers fell, waterlogged and pathetic, around his feet.

And that was a form of distance that was not so easily remedied.

He shut the water off, knelt down, and gathered them up, placing them in a bag to be thrown away and never seen again - the evidence of his shame.

Leverrier - whom Link somewhat wanted to blame, and yet at the same time, admired for his resourcefulness and his single-minded ruthlessness - had once told him something that was now all that kept him going.

In an ironic twist of fate, CROWs did not need feathers.

* * *

Even on the nights when Mana didn't remember who Allen was, he remembered to groom Allen's wings. He wondered what that meant.

"Always take care of your wings, Neah," Mana murmured to Allen, smiling vaguely as he combed carefully through the feathers of his now three-foot wings. Then, teasingly, "I won't always be able to do this for you, you know!"

"...Okay, Mana," Allen muttered, keeping his voice low and rough. He felt Mana chuckle behind him, pausing to ruffle his hair gently.

"Don't worry," Mana assured him softly. "Even if I can't always take care of you, I'll always have you on my mind, okay?"

"...Okay."

Mana was a fucking liar. But it wasn't his fault.

 _And,_ Allen thought, glancing back at his mottled wings, _at least I know he means it when he says he loves me._

* * *

Link's feathers had stopped falling out, but the feathers of others lay scattered around his feet.

Perhaps the most nauseating discovery of his life was the fact that, when someone died, all of their feathers fell off, one by one, and then two or three at a time, and then all at once.

Link had nearly thrown up the first time he saw it, glancing back at the body of a man he'd killed (an enemy of the Church, he was assured) to find his wings bare, feathers lying in shallow, wide piles around him.

He wondered how many feathers he would lose the day he died.

He wondered how many feathers others would lose.

* * *

The day Mana died, all of Allen's feathers fell out. He picked up every single one of them, and kept them close to his chest as he fell asleep on Mana's grave.

When the akuma skeleton containing Mana attacked him, they scattered in the wind.

* * *

Link missed his friends. But he had a job to do, and love would have to fall by the wayside.

He swore it to himself.

CROWs did not need feathers.

* * *

 **Okay! So that's the first chapter of 'When Angels Are Near' - I'll be updating every other week because I literally cannot handle another weekly fic. *wilt* And this, along with Murmured Magic Words (which this will be alternating with), will be my first Linkllen multichapters. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So! I'm doing this at five in the morning the night before, because I am an idiot and did not do this thing before I left. (I just spent forever in air transport hell.) But! I deliver!**

 **Thank you to Candy Crackpot, Lena-luvs-cats, Jaggedwing, jy24, Deugemia, RMXStudio, XDarkJokerX, newby6320, cursedchild14, nayukiamnesia, Not-Gonna-Update, and Nella Moonblood, Royalle for reviewing!**

 **Title: When Angels Are Near**

 **Author: liketolaugh**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairings: Link/Allen**

 **Genre: Romance/Friendship**

 **Warnings: AU**

 **Summary:** **In a world where the love of others makes your wings grow, Leverrier tells Link that CROWs do not need feathers. Link tries to believe him, until he meets Allen, and his wings start to grow. And Link realizes that he has never wanted anything more.**

 **Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.**

* * *

It was a little-known fact that feathers were composed of much the same material as hair; this was the reason why they were generally the same color.

Walker's wings appeared to be the exception.

While his hair was a bright, clean white, his wings - which, if you listened to the stories often told of him, ought to match it - were a deep auburn. They were also nine feet wide, thick, and fluffy. Link's own, by contrast, were a deep blond to match his hair, and carefully groomed to conceal the sparseness of the feathers, still six feet wide.

Walker's wings fluffed happily as he split up the pumpkin pie Link had made for him, on the understanding that Walker liked sweets. (Ingratiating himself to the suspect, and therefore the person he would spend the next few months around, seemed a good idea.) Link sat beside him, waiting patiently, with his wings tucked in close; it took more effort than he'd expected to hide his surprise when Walker slid one of the resulting pieces over to him.

Bookman Junior was looking between Walker and Link with visible emotion in his eye, something Link took careful note of. His wings - a red color containing somewhat less brown than Allen's - were bristling slightly; they were rather large for a Bookman, by Link's reckoning - Bookman's own were far smaller. His green eye was narrowed almost unnoticeably, and he barely reacted when Allen gave him the last slice of the pie, keeping a full third for himself.

Link looked down to his own piece and picked up an abandoned fork to cut into it.

It was perfect, as expected. Link himself would tolerate nothing less, and he had ample opportunity to improve his recipes, with what personal time he had.

"So, two-spot." Bookman Junior set aside his fork and his half-eaten pie to lean over and smile casually at Link, wings rising just enough to imply strength without being obvious about it. Link stared back expressionlessly; he was above such elementary psychological attacks, and Junior likely knew it. "Guard, what's that mean?"

Link saw Walker slow down, obviously listening. His wings also twitched nervously, a reverberation along the entire structure, from the shoulder to the wingtips.

"I will remain with Walker at all times," Link replied, well aware that this would shatter the illusion of benignity somewhat sooner than he'd wished. "I am not permitted to leave him alone for any reason - further to which, Walker, I'll be sleeping in the same room as you. If you wake before me-" Unlikely. "-you will wake me immediately." Even more unlikely; Link was a very light sleeper.

Walker glanced up, offered a small smile, and inclined his head slightly; his wings tucked close to himself in an obvious insecure gesture. "Alright," he said agreeably.

And then he went back to eating.

Link learned three things about Allen that first day. First, he was a very private person, hiding both his emotions and as much of his personal history as he could manage. Second, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise, he was naturally a very defiant person. And third, he was completely incapable of keeping his wings still.

No matter what emotion he was hiding with his face, Link would be able to read it in his wings.

That was useful.

(Link himself had, of course, stilled his wings a long time ago.)

* * *

After he woke up in Mother's home, Allen had been faced with a redheaded man who bore large, but extremely sparse wings, mostly bedraggled flight feathers accented with a thin coat of down.

Allen's own wings had been bare.

As months had passed, Cross' wings began to grow thicker and fuller, but Allen didn't notice how it was affecting Cross until he woke up to a new coat of feathers of his own. Neither of them ever spoke of it, but after that, Allen picked up the habit of grooming himself every night, careful and meticulous.

Cross' first and only gifts to him had been a preening comb, small and black, and a pair of white gloves. The first now had two of the teeth snapped off, and the second had become far too small for him; he'd lost them at some point, too.

He knew that it was unusual to comb one's wings so frequently - Lavi did it once a week, Lenalee every three days, and Kanda hardly ever - and never was this so clear as when he was sharing his bedroom with another.

Link raised his eyebrows as Allen reached into his small bag and pulled out his comb for the third time in three nights. "Again?" Link asked, and though Allen wasn't sure Link knew it, the traces of suspicion in his tone were very obvious to him, and it saddened the corners of his smile.

"Yes, again," Allen confirmed, injecting a hint of humor into his tone. Then, deciding to elaborate, "I do it every night. I know it's unusual, but it means a lot to me."

Link hummed dubiously, but then he turned away and pulled out a preening comb of his own - small and plain, like Allen's own, and almost as worn.

Then, silently, Link reached back and started to run the comb through his feathers as well.

Allen watched, only half his attention now on his own routine. It was far more obvious, when Link combed his feathers, how thin they were, how few in number and how threadbare in appearance. Allen's eyes softened empathetically, and distantly, he wondered what had happened - if people had died, or if, as sometimes happened, they had simply grown distant.

Cross' wings had been thinner, Allen recalled, but they had also been bigger beforehand. Then he scolded himself for comparing them at all; it was unfair to judge, especially without knowing Link's circumstances. (Not that he knew Cross', even now.)

"Master used to use oil," he said abruptly, clearly startling Link, if the way he jerked was any measure. Link frowned at him, and Allen offered a small, apologetic smile in return and elaborated, "To make his wings look healthier. Coconut oil, I think."

Link stared at him for a long time, and Allen wondered what he was thinking - if he was trying to figure out what game Allen was playing, what trickery he was up to.

Allen looked back down, surrendering the stare-off, and ran his comb through his auburn feathers, stretching his shoulder to reach properly.

When he dared glance up again, Link had also gone back to grooming, without having spoken a word. Allen repressed the urge to sigh.

He hoped Link trusted him someday. This would be very uncomfortable otherwise.

And he hoped Link found people who loved him again.

* * *

 **And, there we go! I am, in all honesty, too tired to think of anything interesting to say, sorry. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey! *wave* I'm back home now, so no hassle (in that respect). *grin* *sigh* On the other hand, I have a couple late chapters because I _cannot kick myself into gear._**

 **Thank you to jy24, Candy Crackpot, Not-Gonna-Update, Deugemia, Kiri Kaitou Clover, Shadow Spears, IbeWildBella, allenfan, newby6320, Nella Moonblood Royalle, and Stuck in my mind for reviewing!**

 **Title: When Angels Are Near**

 **Author: liketolaugh**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairings: Link/Allen**

 **Genre: Romance/Friendship**

 **Warnings: AU**

 **Summary:** **In a world where the love of others makes your wings grow, Leverrier tells Link that CROWs do not need feathers. Link tries to believe him, until he meets Allen, and his wings start to grow. And Link realizes that he has never wanted anything more.**

 **Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.**

* * *

After the Level Four attack, it took Allen an entire week to wake up again.

Link spent most of that time either unconscious, recovering from his own injuries, or working beside him, ensuring that he was not left alone for any length of time. He spent more of that time than he perhaps ought to have watching Allen himself, rather than doing anything productive.

Link had been helpless, or very nearly so, for most of the battle against the Level Four. It had been a very unpleasant feeling, though one he was used to.

Allen had not been helpless. Link had thought he would envy his charge for that.

He did not.

Much of Link's time while Allen was unconscious was spent monitoring his condition. This was for several reasons.

First and foremost, it was his responsibility. As an exorcist, suspect or otherwise, Allen's health was worth far more than Link's time could ever be. Besides that, part of Link's job as a guard and as a CROW was to look after him.

And, though Link would only admit it to himself, in the quiet of the private infirmary room, he was also worried.

After he had gotten over the shock of the cave-in at the lab, Link had spent perhaps ten minutes trying to figure out a way to get Allen out without damaging him further. After all, the exorcist was unable to stand, bleeding profusely from several locations, and had at least one broken bone, from the way his wing was twisted, and probably more. Allen had unquestionably been out of the fight.

Link had continued to believe that until Allen's white cloak wrapped around him and heaved him up, as a sling lifted a stone. Link would swear up and down, even now, that his heart had skipped a beat at that.

Years as a CROW had weathered Link against the various sights, sounds, and smells of battle, but he knew that he never wanted to see that again - a boy even younger than himself, limp in the iron grip of his Innocence, being beaten mercilessly until he bled from everywhere and his wings dangled uselessly from his back, feathers spiralling into the abysmal, gaping floor.

Link didn't think that a traitor would go that far for the Order. Not if he didn't have to, and Allen _hadn't_ needed to - no one would have blamed him for staying down, because any sane person would have.

Allen apparently did not fall under that category.

Link became aware that thirteen minutes had elapsed since he'd lost himself in thought and was about to return to his paperwork when a soft moan snapped his attention back to Allen.

"Walker?" he called cautiously, setting his pen down and his clipboard aside. "Can you hear me?"

Allen's head turned toward Link, and his eyelids flickered open to let him stare dazedly at Link. His mouth opened to take in a shallow, painful breath, and then he tried to move one arm and push himself up.

He barely made it an inch off the bed before he gasped harshly, collapsing back down.

"Don't move," Link warned him, turning his attention more fully onto Allen. Then, dryly, "I'd have said so much sooner, but it didn't occur to me that you might try." Quieter, "You're quite badly hurt."

It took a moment, but Allen's eyes finally focused on Link. A moment after that, he apparently processed Link's words, because his lips quirked into a smile.

Link did not feel like smiling.

"Is everyone okay?" Allen asked. His voice rasped painfully, and each word took another shallow breath, but his eyes never left Link's.

"Miss Lee should be released within three or four days," Link replied, keeping his voice neutral. "Bookman Junior, today, if he doesn't do anything foolish. Kanda was admitted, but has no obvious injuries."

Allen smiled faintly. "They're okay?"

Link sighed. "They're okay."

Allen's smile softened and became, Link realized, with a slight widening of his eyes, genuine, in a way it simply hadn't been before.

Then he was struggling to sit up again, and Link hastened to help him before he could hurt himself further.

When he was finally up, propped against the back of the bed, Allen panted for a moment, eyes closed, and then turned his head to smile at Link, who did not smile back.

"Easy, Link," Allen murmured, smile turning somewhat rueful.

He reached out with his left hand, slow and ponderous. Link tensed slightly, eyes tracking the movement, but let it happen; in this condition, Allen was more likely to fall over dead than to hurt him.

He bypassed Link's hand, his elbow, and his shoulder to finally come to rest on the broad line of Link's wing. Only then did Link realize that his wings had half-stretched in his anxiety, poised as if to take flight in the low-ceilinged room.

Link pulled away abruptly, snapping his wings back against his back. Allen's hand remained in place, his smile unchanged.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Allen continued, as if Link had never moved. "And I'm not going to run."

Link said nothing, eyes on Allen. That, as it happened, had not been what Link had been worried about, but he was hardly going to say so.

Inspectors did not grow attached to their charges, and CROWs did not need feathers.

Allen smiled and glanced away, downward to where Link knew he would be able to see the trailing edge of his left wing.

Instantly, his face fell, though he quickly covered it up with a rueful smile. Link flicked an assessing eye over the younger male's wings and grimaced inwardly.

Even Link, who put far less effort into the care of his wings than did Allen, had to admit it was bad. One of them, the right, was splinted tightly, and both were ruffled and dirty, the feathers bent in places and broken in others, and some areas noticeably thinned after the deaths of the invasion.

Link glanced back up to gauge Allen's reaction, and found himself… Unable.

Because Allen was wearing the least genuine smile Link had ever seen on anyone.

"I'll have to comb them when I heal," Allen commented, a hint of strained humor in his voice. "They're awful."

Link 'hm'ed. Allen's bag was under the bed, for when he woke up. He reached inside, ignoring Allen's puzzled look. Then, without another word, he leaned forward and reached to take Allen's healthy wing and tugged on it. Curious, Allen extended it.

Link reached up with his other hand and ran the comb briskly through the feathers. It came away quite dirty, he noted.

"Link?" Allen asked, surprised.

"It's unseemly to have part of you be so dirty," Link told him. He felt Allen's gaze boring into the side of his head, but he didn't look.

Finally, Allen replied, soft and genuinely grateful, "Thank you."

Link said nothing, but he didn't stop, either.

* * *

 ***beam* There we are! I'm surprised I haven't seen much Link/Allen interaction after the Level Four attack. Like. Think how injured Allen was. _Think how long he must have been bedridden._ Their friendship (in canon - *sulks about OTP not being canon*) probably started there. *wave* Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey! *smile* I don't really have much to say, except that I've been in a Linkllen mood lately and might try to come out with a new oneshot soon.**

 **Thank you to IbeWildBella, jy24, PlatinumDarkside, Deugemia, Lucy's Dreamland, Shadow Spears, and WinterYule for reviewing!**

 **Title: When Angels Are Near**

 **Author: liketolaugh**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairings: Link/Allen**

 **Genre: Romance/Friendship**

 **Warnings: AU**

 **Summary:** **In a world where the love of others makes your wings grow, Leverrier tells Link that CROWs do not need feathers. Link tries to believe him, until he meets Allen, and his wings start to grow. And Link realizes that he has never wanted anything more.**

 **Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.**

* * *

"Head Nurse says I'll be ready to start training again tomorrow," Allen said conversationally, sitting up and half-looking over his shoulder to smile at Link.

 _"Gentle_ training," Link reminded him sternly, cross-legged behind him to run his comb through Allen's feathers. "If I believe you're causing yourself harm, I won't hesitate to report you."

Allen laughed. "I know, I know. I promise, I'm not going to do anything that gets me even _more_ time in the infirmary."

"You're self-destructive," Link grumbled, tugging gently at a tangle. "Or else you wouldn't have been trying to _spar_ with _Kanda_ while your ribs and wing were still healing."

Allen groaned playfully. "I know, I know, it was stupid." He huffed. "But I have to learn to use my sword sometime. I'm terrible." He paused, considered, and then added, "And Kanda's an ass."

"That is irrelevant to this discussion," Link informed him primly. He set the comb aside. "That's that finished. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Allen assured him, twisting around to look at Link and betraying himself with a small wince. At Link's skeptical look, he amended, "I'm still kind of sore all over, but really, it's nothing that won't go away soon enough."

"Hm." Link studied him for a moment, while Allen looked back earnestly. Link repressed the urge to snort. Allen was entirely too deceptive, in very different ways from what Link had initially expected. "Well, as long as you don't set yourself back at all."

"I won't," Allen promised instantly, spinning around properly. He smiled at Link. "Your turn."

Link sighed, and then turned around so his back was to Allen, planting his feet on the floor on the opposite side of the bed. He reached to the nightstand and picked up his own comb, a honey-yellow, cheap one, and gave it to Allen.

Soon after Allen had regained the ability to sit up on his own, but before he could twist at the right angles to preen himself, Allen had started to insist on returning the favor. Link had quickly given in, simply because it was easier than saying 'no' to Allen's wide, guileless silver eyes. He had suspected that he was being manipulated then, and he was even more sure of it now.

He still relaxed at the feeling of Allen's left hand resting delicately on the trailing edge of his wing, hands folding in his lap as Allen carefully began to run the comb through his feathers.

For a few minutes, both of them were silent. At some point, Link let his eyes close, listening to the bustling noises of the hall and the larger infirmary room beside them, and then Allen's breathing and the near-silent ruffle of feathers that occurred with every shift of Allen's emotions.

He nearly jumped when Allen finally broke the silence.

"Your feathers are thicker."

Link's eyes had snapped open at the sound of Allen's voice, and when he processed the white-haired boy's words, they widened slightly, and he turned his head to look over his shoulder.

"...What?" he asked after a moment, unsure if he had heard Allen correctly.

Allen was smiling at him, soft and gentle and honest. If Link's heart hadn't already been pounding, it might have skipped a beat.

Gently, Allen tugged at Link's wing, and Link extended it automatically. Allen scooted around, wings opening slightly to balance him as he shifted, and then, propping himself up with his left, ghosted his right hand across the surface of Link's blond wing.

"They're thicker," Allen repeated quietly. "See? The gaps aren't so wide anymore - they're completely gone here at the base, and you have more down, too."

Link held his breath, brown eyes searching for what Allen had seen that he had failed to notice, wondering, for a moment, if the exorcist was lying to him - and then realized that he saw it, too.

He let his breath out in a long, hissed exhale, and let his eyes flick to Allen's. Allen was still smiling at him, silver eyes shining, meeting his evenly.

Link looked away, twitching his wings in such away that it caused Allen to let go. "I see," he managed, only just keeping the hoarseness out of his voice.

He felt more than saw Allen shift again, returning to his former position. This time, Link tensed slightly, but still didn't resist as Allen returned to his self-appointed task.

"I'm glad," Allen continued, soft and honest. "You deserve it."

"Wings are no measure of worth," Link replied, perhaps more sharply than he'd intended. He felt Allen pause for a moment, and then continue. Link let out a sigh and forced himself to relax, hands planted on his knees. "I suppose… it is harder to understand when you have always had so much love to show."

Allen 'hm'ed, and Link nearly snapped again, until he realized Allen was speaking.

"When I came to the Order," Allen said, very quiet and very soft, "my wings were three feet wide."

Link stilled, taken aback.

Weeks of staying with Allen as he recovered had given Link the experience he needed to place Allen's expression with the voice he used, if not quite to tell when he was and wasn't being honest. Still, Link didn't need to turn around to see the soft, sad smile on Allen's face as he continued.

"For a long time, my father was the only one who loved me, so when he died, all of my feathers fell out." Allen's father, Link recalled, was the mysterious Mana Walker, brother of the Fourteenth. Link said nothing of this, and neither did Allen. "Master, as you know, found me shortly afterward." A moment of hesitation. "Master is not a kind man, nor a friendly one, but he and I travelled together for five years. He was the only person I knew well, and he was the only person he knew me well."

"All of those feathers were from him," Link concluded.

"If not all, then certainly most," Allen agreed quietly, without ever faltering as he worked on Link's other wing. "But the people here at the Order… They are very kind, and they have a lot of love to give. Given the choice, I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Link did not think that that was a very popular choice among the exorcists, but he could certainly understand, especially when he recalled the desolation that had wracked him as he slowly realized what was happening to his own feathers.

Allen went silent again, apparently content with what he'd shared. Link hesitated, and then, on impulse, spoke.

"Before I joined Central, I had five friends."

He felt Allen pause again, and then he continued, brushing toward the end of Link's wing in slow, careful motions. "Were you very close?"

"Quite," Link confirmed, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. _Where did that closeness go?_ "We all joined CROW at the same time - many years ago, now. However, our training… took us along different paths."

"You drifted apart," Allen completed for him.

"We drifted apart," Link repeated, defeated.

"Do you miss them?" Allen asked, without missing a beat. He finished with a flick of the comb and set it aside, but didn't otherwise move.

Link hesitated, and then he sighed.

"Yes. I miss them."

* * *

 **There we go. *bounce and grin* I think my biggest worry, writing this story (and MMW, too, when it gets that far) is going to be how fast they're moving. I don't _read_ a lot of romance (ironically) so I'm not sure how to gauge it? *shrug* But hell, I'm trying. *grin* Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey! *bright grin* Moving along with the relationship development, we should have this, another pure fluff chapter, and then PLOT. Uh-oh. *snicker***

 **Thank you to jy24, newby6320, Deugemia, Shadow Spears, Jaggedwing, Candy Crackpot, and yneess for reviewing!**

 **Title: When Angels Are Near**

 **Author: liketolaugh**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairings: Link/Allen**

 **Genre: Romance/Friendship**

 **Warnings: AU**

 **Summary:** **In a world where the love of others makes your wings grow, Leverrier tells Link that CROWs do not need feathers. Link tries to believe him, until he meets Allen, and his wings start to grow. And Link realizes that he has never wanted anything more.**

 **Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.**

* * *

Allen was no longer allowed on missions alone.

This wasn't, really, much of a surprise, but Allen had to admit that it kind of hurt. It wasn't that staying with Link was any sort of hardship, of course - Allen had come to enjoy the other man's company more than he'd ever expected to - but the lack of trust stung nonetheless.

But the point was, Allen was no longer allowed on missions alone. Most of the time, he was with Link and at least one other exorcist - usually Kanda, with the unspoken reasoning that Kanda was one of the very few likely to be able to take him down if he went rogue.

Occasionally, though, on smaller, quicker missions, it was just him and Link.

The two of them had just finished one of these, and the Innocence sat, quiet and innocuous, in one of Allen's inside jacket pockets. Allen himself was half-asleep, drifting with his head resting against the wall of the train car, listening to the rush of the train's speed.

Link was beside him - he could feel the other man's thigh pressed lightly to his, their wings brushing together gently. Every so often, Allen could make out the 'fwip' of a turned page, and the soft whoosh of Link's even breaths was easily as soothing a sound as the wind outside.

Both of them had escaped the mission virtually unscathed, save for a few bruises that would probably ache quite a bit the next day, and now only had to reach the next town over before they could return to Headquarters and, Allen anticipated, get some sleep.

Link and Allen had continued their grooming ritual even after Allen had been released from the infirmary, and with it had come conversation. With conversation, then, had come a deeper understanding of Link than Allen could have hoped for.

Link was an inspector, an agent of Central, loyal to a fault and a rigid adherent to rules of any sort and the very worst sort of perfectionist. He was also gentle, caring, and fretful, had friends who he missed, loved to read, and only ever let his emotions shine through when he and Allen were alone. Except when he was worried - when he was worried, Link would telegraph his emotions with his wings, which twitched and flared with every thought and reaction, regardless of how many people surrounded them.

Even in his doze, Allen smiled faintly.

A moment later, he was jerked out of his thoughts as the train hit a minor imperfection in the railroad, causing it to jolt and Allen to smack his head painfully against the wall. He hissed, pulling away to hold his head and wince.

"Ow," he muttered petulantly, one wing twitching with a little frustration.

Link looked up, frowning. "Allen?" he questioned, concern leaking into his voice as he lowered his book.

Allen sighed, pulling his hand away from his head and looking over at Link with a small, rueful smile. "Nothing, just hit my head," he reassured the inspector, letting his bristling wings relax.

Link frowned, wings rising to attention in the exact reverse of the motion Allen's had just gone through. "Did it wake you up?"

Allen wasn't sure if that had really qualified as sleep. "Kind of."

Link muttered a quiet curse. "I was hoping you'd sleep through the ride," he admitted. "You don't get enough."

Allen chuckled. "I sleep fine."

"I'm supposed to report any lies you tell me, Walker."

The threat had no bite to it; Link was just exasperated, Allen judged fondly. A moment later, Link reached forward and tugged gently at Allen's shoulder.

"Come here," Link instructed, firm but still quiet.

Curious, Allen leaned over, and then kept leaning when Link continued to pull, until eventually, Link muttered,

"Lie down."

"Mm?" Faintly startled, Allen nonetheless did as instructed, which ultimately ended with his head in Link's lap, half on his stomach with his wings folded over him like a blanket. He glanced up to make sure this was really what Link had meant. Sure enough, Link looked satisfied, though he was also blushing faintly, not looking at Allen; his hand was resting on Allen's shoulder, keeping him down without any force to it at all.

"You won't bang your head like this," Link explained, avoiding Allen's eyes. "Is… this alright?"

Allen picked up on the hesitation in Link's voice easily and smiled at him. "Yes, this is fine," he reassured him, warmth spreading through his chest. "Thank you."

It was right then, watching Link cough, blushing with embarrassment and unable to look at him, while simultaneously looking perhaps the most pleased Allen had ever seen him, that Allen realized.

He didn't just love Link - as a friend, a comrade, a companion.

He was in love with him. More than anyone Allen could ever remember having loved.

Something about the look Allen was giving him made Link cough again, blush deepening, and then his hand moved from Allen's shoulder to his hair, threading through it gently as though stroking a pet.

"Go to sleep," Link half-ordered, none of the embarrassment leaking into his voice. "We still have some ways to go."

"Alright, I will," Allen promised, smiling up at him one last time before his eyes fell shut, his body relaxing into Link's.

A few minutes passed in silence, Allen dozing again, and he was almost asleep when, suddenly, a question occurred to him.

Without opening his eyes, Allen asked quietly, "Link? Can you fly?"

Link's fingers paused in their gentle motion, and then resumed, somewhat slower as Link considered Allen's question.

"I used to be able to," he said at last. "But they're not strong enough anymore."

Allen sighed softly, settling even more contently as the urge to sleep rose around him like a rolling fog. "I never learned how. Maybe we can do it together someday."

Above him, Link sighed. "Go to sleep, Walker. You're talking nonsense."

Allen smiled and obeyed.

* * *

 **So. Fluffy nonsense. *giggle* Allen is a little more in tune with his emotions than Link is, no real surprise there. *smile* Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey! *wave* I almost forgot this was a thing I needed to do. *sheepish grin***

 **Thank you to Kittenanimegirl13, jy24, Jaggedwing, newby6320, Deugemia, Cutiepie120048, and Shadow Spears for reviewing!**

 **Title: When Angels Are Near**

 **Author: liketolaugh**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairings: Link/Allen**

 **Genre: Romance/Friendship**

 **Warnings: AU**

 **Summary:** **In a world where the love of others makes your wings grow, Leverrier tells Link that CROWs do not need feathers. Link tries to believe him, until he meets Allen, and his wings start to grow. And Link realizes that he has never wanted anything more.**

 **Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.**

* * *

Forced medical leave was a plague on the Order, Link determined resolutely.

Normally, Link did not think this. Normally, Link accepted his forced medical leave with good grace, even if he didn't particularly enjoy it.

However, _Allen_ on forced medical leave was borderline unbearable.

Their last mission, while straightforward, had also been a little rough, and both of them had come out with minor injuries - Allen with broken ribs and Link with a strained wrist. Thus, medical leave.

It had been three days, and Allen was already as bad as he'd ever been while recovering from the Level Four attack. Head Nurse had already threatened, twice, to extend their leave from five days to a full week.

Link thought Allen might implode if he had to wait an entire week.

So, in the interests of preventing that, Link had asked for, and received, permission from Jerry to use his kitchen after the cleanup from dinner was complete. (There had been a great deal of winking involved. Link had never felt so confused.)

"Are you sure about this?" Allen asked doubtfully, wings ruffling uncertainly. "Every time anyone's tried to teach me to cook, it… hasn't gone so well."

"This isn't cooking, this is baking," Link said crisply. "And I will be helping you the entire time, so it will go fine."

Except even Link couldn't account for the walking bad luck charm that was Allen Walker, no matter how determined he was to do so. It irked him.

Allen hummed, the dubious shiver of his wings not so much as faltering, but his mouth curled into a rueful grin. "Alright, if you're sure. It sounds like fun, at least."

Link let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, turning his head sharply away from Allen to overlook the kitchen. "Good," he said firmly, wondering why he felt so flustered. He cleared his throat. "We'll need flour, baking soda, baking powder, butter, sugar, vanilla, eggs…" He trailed off, starting to move to open cupboards.

Allen chuckled softly, and Link faltered as he felt Allen's wings brush gently against his as the younger boy moved past. He glanced over to find Allen reaching up to help, his right wing stretching a few scant inches from Link's left.

Allen glanced down, smiled at him brightly, and then looked back up. A second later, he let out a quiet 'aha!' and pulled down a large bag.

"Flour!" Allen announced cheerfully.

Link smiled slightly, feeling his wing twitch just enough for the tip to brush Allen's. He set a box down beside the flour.

"Baking soda," he returned, feeling his heart pound unnecessarily as he met Allen's gaze.

Allen's silver eyes lit up, a mischievous smile appearing on his face at the veiled challenge.

Ten minutes later, the full array of ingredients were laid out along the counter, on either side of a strategically placed wooden spoon. On one side was the baking soda, baking powder, and vanilla, and on the other, flour, sugar, butter, and eggs.

Technically Allen, having located one ingredient more than Link, had won, but seeing as Link had also found all of the necessary implements, he felt that that was not true in spirit.

Still, watching Allen beam happily at his success, Link decided not to point that out.

"What now?" Allen asked, making Link aware that he'd been watching Allen with a small smile on his face for some time now.

Link cleared his throat and looked away, reaching for a bowl. "The first step is to-" He stopped.

Allen, with faster reflexes than he usually betrayed outside of battle or attempts to fend off those who would steal his food, had picked up the bowl before Link could and plonked it in front of himself. Link blinked dumbly at the now-empty space, and then pulled back his hand, glancing at Allen with clear confusion.

Allen smiled at him apologetically and explained, "You're not supposed to use that hand." His eyes flicked down to Link's hand for a moment before returning to his eyes, hints of barely-noticeable apprehension flickering in his expression.

Link copied the motion, viewing the bandage wrapped lightly around his wrist. The pain, while acute for the first few hours, had faded over the first day and all but vanished late in the previous one. Allen was being ridiculous.

Allen was also impossible to keep still while injured, a problem Link was still looking for ways to solve. Leading by example seemed as good a solution as any. "Very well."

Allen beamed at him. Link looked away before his face could turn too red, acutely aware of the flustered ruffle of his thick wings (and he still wasn't sure when that had happened).

"You need to measure out the flour first," Link said instead of commenting further, focusing harder than strictly necessary on recalling the recipe. "Two and three quarters of a cup."

"Why not two and a half?" Allen wondered, reaching for the cup measure and examining it.

"Yes, that is one cup," Link assured him, ignoring the question.

Allen chuckled sheepishly. "Thanks." He reached in with the measuring cup and came up with a heaping scoop. He glanced at Link questioningly. "Uh?"

"Brush off the top with the wooden spoon's handle," Link advised, relaxing now that he was more in his element. "That will give you one cup exactly."

Allen obeyed, dumping most of his findings back into the bag. He dumped the permissible flour into the bowl and then, without waiting for instruction, returned for the second.

Link watched him intently, giving instruction where necessary, and Allen followed, almost as focused as Link, save for how he occasionally glanced up to smile at Link, never failing to make the older man stutter and hesitate. For the next few minutes, though, they were mostly quiet as they worked.

It went well, until Link instructed Allen to crack an egg.

The first one did not so much smash as splash against the edge of the bowl, leaving Allen with a very messy hand and both of them splattered with bits of egg and eggshell, along with much of the counter and floor.

"Um. Oops?" Allen offered, giving Link a sheepish grin.

Link took a deep breath and focused very hard on not laughing. Laughing was unprofessional, and Link did not like to be unprofessional.

"I was expecting that," Link assured Allen, one blond wing twitching in a feeble attempt to dispel the bits of egg. "That was, in fact, what the bowl was for." He'd gotten a separate one so bits of eggshell did not ruin the dough.

Allen's smile turned slightly relieved, his wings, which had been rising in apprehension, relaxing on his back. (Link did wonder why Allen was always so worried that Link would be mad at him.) "You really do plan for everything, don't you?" he asked with obvious admiration, voice tinged with the same relief as his smile.

Link glanced at him, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. "I do the same thing," he said honestly. "It's the reason I picked up the habit of cracking eggs in a separate bowl."

Allen smiled at him gratefully, and Link looked away, departing briefly and abruptly to rinse out the bowl. A moment later, he returned.

This time, Allen succeeded in not splattering egg everywhere, so Link had him add it, and then the vanilla, and perhaps the bowl of dry ingredients would've gone just as well if both of them hadn't turned at the same time.

But they did - they turned at the exact same time, in exactly the wrong way, such that their heads bumped together unpleasantly, and then they both recoiled. The bowl banged off of the counter, mixed powder flew everywhere, and the next thing Link knew, he was falling.

For a moment, both of them laid still, stunned. Then Link coughed, sending powder skittering around, and pushed himself up, winced, and took the weight off his bad wrist.

"Ehehehe… Oops."

Link looked to the side to see Allen lying flat on his back, smiling at him ruefully, color spread across his cheeks and eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter.

A moment later, Allen pushed himself up, wincing. He attempted to shake his wings off, succeeding only in filling the air with flour, and lifted the now empty bowl onto his lap. He glanced at Link, laughter melting away into genuine guilt and wariness that made Link's heart clench a little.

Link stared at him, then at the bowl, and back at him, the tightness in his chest slowly fading away to be replaced by something else. He looked at the ground, covered in powder, and back at his wings, which looked almost angel white. He shook them out and achieved almost nothing. He looked back at Allen, who was starting to tense apprehensively, looking like a guilty child.

Finally, Link smiled, a rueful smile that mirrored Allen's previous. "Even I can't plan for you, Allen Walker."

From the way Allen's expression changed, Link knew the fondness in his voice was clearly audible, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Allen smiled shyly. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Link said without thinking. Before either of them could contemplate that statement too closely, he stood up, wings twitching and stretching for balance, and held out a hand for Allen to take.

Allen took it and started to pull himself up, but Link, unfortunately placed on a thick pile of powder, slipped, and then they were both on the ground again, staring at each other.

Then Allen cracked a smile, silver eyes dancing with amusement. In response, Link smiled ruefully again, and Allen laughed.

The sound was loud, unrestrained, and cheerful, more than enough to make Link forget about the pain in his wrist. The same could not be said for Allen, who almost instantly winced, laugh morphing into a soft groan as he clutched at his ribs.

He glanced up to meet Link's eyes, and Link realized, really realized, how ridiculous this was.

Here they were, a CROW and an exorcist, placed in an inherently antagonistic professional relationship, and they did this - sat together on the floor of a kitchen, covered in flour, with Link feeling the happiest he had in years.

Because of the young man sitting beside him.

 _God, I love him._

The thought crossed Link's mind in a split second, without any conscious decision on his part, and his eyes would've widened, he might've panicked - but then Allen sat up, tasted the flour mixture, and made a face, caught between surprise and disgust and dismay.

At the same time, both of them started to laugh.

 _I love him,_ Link repeated to himself, and he took in Allen's delighted beam, and he grinned back, one wing reaching out to brush against Allen's, which reached back just as quickly.

"We're going to have to clean this up, you know," Allen pointed out, laughter still clear in his voice, oblivious to the thoughts going through Link's head.

"Of course," Link agreed, and he stood up, smiling at Allen. "Now stand up, we have cookies to make."

(The cookies were awful, and only about half of them made it into the oven. Luckily, Link had planned for that.)

* * *

 **So that's all of the chapters I have stored up so far. *clap* After this we'll probably get on with the plot, which should be... fun. *snicker* I'll try my best to make this a relatively short story... You know, compared to most of my other ones. *snorts and rolls eyes* Not saying much... *cough* Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey! *grin* Fluff-focus is over, time for plotty fluff instead!**

 **Thank you to Kittenanimegirl13, Deugemia, newby6320, Cutiepie120048, jy24, Shadow Spears, and Lena-luvs-cats for reviewing!**

 **Title: When Angels Are Near**

 **Author: liketolaugh**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairings: Link/Allen**

 **Genre: Romance/Friendship**

 **Warnings: AU**

 **Summary:** **In a world where the love of others makes your wings grow, Leverrier tells Link that CROWs do not need feathers. Link tries to believe him, until he meets Allen, and his wings start to grow. And Link realizes that he has never wanted anything more.**

 **Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.**

* * *

It was a few moments before Allen, in the midst of changing clothes, noticed Link's intent stare and looked up, silver eyes blinking at Link questioningly.

Link was frowning, brow furrowed slightly as he leaned forward seemingly subconsciously, his elbows on his knees. His wings were half-raised, a now-familiar indication of worry, one blond wingtip twitching restlessly.

And he was looking at the new, ridiculously large scar stretching across Allen's torso. Allen's wings flexed and withdrew uncomfortably, and after a moment, Link's eyes flicked up to meet his, without changing expression.

"I suppose we should be glad your Innocence doesn't make a proper wound," Link said, after a moment. But the intensity of his gaze didn't fade.

Allen winced slightly at the memory of the _pain_ that had blinded him after his Innocence had turned against him. Link didn't miss it, sitting up as his attention was shifted forcibly.

"That was stupid of me," Allen said, hoping to forestall anything else, letting his gaze drop to the ground. "I didn't really think that through, did I?"

Link hesitated, and Allen winced again.

"Not really," Link said at last, voice brisk in a way that Allen knew was entirely false. "But it's been done. I assume you won't do it again."

Allen shook his head. "No," he confirmed, voice soft. He glanced back up in time to see Link bite his lip, and the man's wings shifted to press themselves against his back.

"Are you in pain?" Link asked, letting his concern show through this time, and this time Allen could see the memory of Allen's pain passing behind Link's eyes instead.

Allen opened his mouth to assure Link he was fine, caught the tremble of Link's wing tips and the look in his eyes, and changed his mind. Instead, he shrugged and shifted, a brief, matching shudder passing through both his wings from the base to the tips. "…It aches, a little. It'll wear off in a few weeks, I think." Then, abruptly, he let his discomfort melt away and his own concern rise to the surface, and he started, auburn wings lifting, "About earlier."

Link stilled. Allen's worry ticked up a notch, but Link didn't move to stop him, so he pressed on.

"With the Thirds – you reacted rather strangely. I didn't want to ask in public, but…"

Link hesitated. He broke his gaze away from Allen's, folded his hands, and focused on them, pensive. Both wings pulled a little away from his back, flexing slightly, and one twitched spastically for a moment before they both dropped, not so much relaxing as deflating.

"I knew them," Link said at last, voice quiet.

Allen started, a twitch of surprise shivering down one wing. His mouth opened slightly, but Link wasn't done; his wings were tensing and relaxing at irregular, restless intervals, and he hadn't looked up.

"We joined CROW together, but… I haven't seen them in… a while." Link's intertwined fingers clenched, the corners of his eyes tight with emotion.

"Your friends," Allen concluded, keeping his voice soft.

Link started slightly, glanced up, and then nodded. "Yes." A short pause, and then, quieter, "They are… not quite as I remember them."

"Neither are you," Allen pointed out gently. He itched to move the short distance to Link's bed to sit beside him and put a hand on his shoulder or stroke his wing, to provide a more physical form of comfort than words, but he didn't think Link would welcome that, right now.

Allen was good with words, anyway. Good enough.

Link nodded, but didn't look particularly convinced. "I suppose it was a naïve hope," he murmured, sounding almost bitter.

 _Perhaps,_ Allen thought, and said, "It's good to hope. I'm sure some things are as you remember them." He smiled. "And now that you're together again, maybe you can try and find them."

Link smiled, too. It wasn't necessarily a happy one, but Allen was pleased with it anyway. "You always do know what to say, don't you," he sighed, and, without waiting for an answer, continued, "Anyway, I wasn't the only one who reacted strongly. You seemed bothered."

Allen winced. "You noticed that?"

Link gave him an unimpressed look. Allen's cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away, wings fluttering uncomfortably. Link sighed, concern and the edges of frustration mixing into the sound.

"Is it about their being half-akuma?" Link asked, voice catching slightly on the last words. Allen met his gaze, found himself unwilling to lie, and took a short, steadying breath.

"Yes," he admitted. He didn't say anything further, not wanting to get into this, but Link was still looking at him, expectant and anxious, and he had to keep himself from looking away again. "I…" He hesitated again – not to stall for time, but because, for once, words were hard to find. There were no words for the soul of an akuma. Not really.

"Say it like you mean it, Allen," Link said unexpectedly, the intensity of his gaze suddenly increasing. "Please."

Allen started, looked at him, and faltered, feeling his heart clench uncomfortably.

And then he looked away, focusing on the floor instead of Link, now.

"I hate it," Allen confessed, his honesty catching in his throat, his auburn wings quivering with stressed agitation. "I hate that they were willing to do that to themselves. I hate that someone would do that to other people. I…" _It makes me feel sick. I want to throw up._ "It's scary."

He chanced a glance up, and Link looked almost like he'd been struck, eyes wide – and it was Link, this time, that looked away.

"I see," Link managed at last, voice strained.

An apology formed itself in the back of Allen's throat, but he kept it there, knowing that if he didn't mean it, Link wouldn't want it. Not now. Instead, he continued,

"You know that akuma souls suffer, don't you, Link?"

He didn't need to be looking to see Link's surprise or his wariness. "Yes. It is common knowledge within the Order."

Allen smiled. "Of course it is. Everyone knows it. But… It isn't personal to them." With one hand, he made a false motion up as if to touch his curse, swiftly aborted. He looked at Link, earnest and almost desperate, wanting him to understand, even as Allen failed to understand the Thirds. "It's personal to me, Link. I can _see_ them."

Link looked startled, wings half-lifting once again. Allen wasn't surprised; everyone he'd worked with and then some knew what his curse did, but few thought beyond that.

"They're not quiet," Allen pushed on, and he knew that his voice and his wings were shaking in a matching, unknowable rhythm, but he couldn't stop it. "Some of them scream. Most of them cry. If they're new enough, I can tell whether they were a man or a woman, or how old they were. And they're _hurting._ Most people think of an akuma and see a creature who wants to destroy everything, but I can't. I _can't."_

Allen took a deep breath.

"I'll try not to hold it against them, Link, because they're your friends, but I will never understand why they did it."

Link was silent for a long time, and just when Allen started to worry that he'd pushed too far, Link said, much quieter than before, "I see."

Allen bit the inside of his cheek and looked away again, shame and discomfort and worry swirling together in his chest, and an awkwardness overtook the room, neither one quite comfortable with the silence. Eventually, Allen took it upon himself to break it and asked, falteringly,

"Could… could you tell me about them? Only if you want to, of course." He looked back at Link, a little ashamed of his rant – Link still looked a little shaken. "I'd like to know what _you_ remember of them."

Link met his eyes and managed a smile, at once strained and relieved and something else, and replied, slightly humorous,

"As long as you don't think you'll be bored by it."

Allen smiled, relaxing a little. It wasn't okay, but Link would put it aside. "I could never be bored by you, Link."

"You're not supposed to lie to me," Link pointed out, smile easing a little. "I bore you all the time."

Allen grinned sheepishly, and Link shook his head, paused, and then started to talk.

And as promised, Allen listened, forcing aside all thoughts of crying people and helpless, rotting souls in favor of paying attention to Link's stories and the wistfulness in his voice.

* * *

 **There we go! And that should launch the plot, which I'm pleased enough to be confident I won't rewrite it this time, and also probably won't exceed ten chapters, which is, frankly, great. I will learn moderation if it is the _last thing I do._ Thanks for reading, and please review!**


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